


Hector the Wonder Cat

by Phreakycat



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Buck adopts a cat, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:41:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23111131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phreakycat/pseuds/Phreakycat
Summary: "Guys, look what I found in my dumpster when I took my trash out before work."Buck holds his phone out proudly, a photo of quite possibly the ugliest cat Eddie has ever seen gracing the screen."Jesus!" Chim exclaims, recoiling a little. "Buck, tell me you didn't pull a dead cat out of the trash.""He's not dead!" Buck insists, offended."Are you sure?" Chim asks doubtfully.Or: Buck rescues a lovable disaster of a cat, who rescues him in return.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 64
Kudos: 1495





	Hector the Wonder Cat

**Author's Note:**

> I am so incredibly rusty at writing fanfic.
> 
> Like, years rusty. 
> 
> But, here it is anyway! Based on my own damn prompt on the Buddie Discord because I'm apparently the kind of person who fills her own prompts. So many thanks to Toughpaperround for the excellent Beta job, and all the wonderful hilarious folks on Discord who have been making my days SO much more entertaining than they were. 
> 
> Disclaimer - I have literally never seen a cat I thought was ugly. If Hector were a real cat, I'd smooch him all over his mess of a face and tell him he was handsome. Also, Hector is partially inspired by Princess Monster Truck. If you've never heard of her, do yourself a favor and google that awesome kitty right now.

* * *

Before Eddie's body is even fully though the locker room door, Buck is in his space. He’s practically bouncing on his heels, full of the kind of happy excitement that always makes Eddie think of a golden retriever. Eddie jolts to a stop quickly enough that Chim, following close behind, runs into his back with a muffled curse. 

"You'll never guess what happened this morning!" Buck exclaims.

"Uh, good morning to you, too?" Eddie says, dropping his duffle on the bench.

"If this is a sex thing I don't want to hear it," Chim says drily, following Eddie in.

"A sex-? No! Guys, look what I found in my dumpster when I took my trash out before work."

Buck holds his phone out proudly, a photo of quite possibly the ugliest cat Eddie has ever seen gracing the screen.

"Jesus!" Chim exclaims, recoiling a little. "Buck, tell me you didn't pull a dead cat out of the trash."

"He's not dead!" Buck insists, offended. 

"Are you sure?" Chim asks doubtfully. Eddie kind of gets where he's coming from, given the way the cat's eyes seem to point in disparate directions. The left eye looks cloudy, and a hint of pink tongue protrudes from an alarmingly severe underbite. 

"He's just a little dirty," Buck insists, "but once I get him cleaned up later he'll be fine."

"Yeah, I don't think hygiene is the issue here, Buck," Chim laughs. 

“So how did you come across this cat?” Eddie asks, trying to ease the slightly wounded look on Buck’s face.

“I heard him meowing when I opened the dumpster, and I climbed in and found him. Can you believe someone just... threw him away like garbage?" 

"Terrible," Eddie agrees at the same time that Chim says, "Yes."

"I'm calling him Hector," Buck smiles. "He looks like a Hector."

"He looks like road kill, Buck," Chim insists.

"What looks like road kill?" Hen asks, sticking her head in the door.

"Hector. And he doesn't look like road kill," Buck argues. "He just needs a little TLC."

"And maybe a good veterinary orthodontist," Hen comments, raising her eyebrow at the photo.

"He's got character," Buck says.

"And possibly rabies," Chim mumbles from inside his locker. 

Buck looks stung.

"He's... unique," Eddie says, resting a hand on Buck's shoulder, "and I'm sure he's got a great personality."

Hen snorts.

"He really does!" Buck grins, perking up. "He drools when he purrs. Hey! Chris should come meet him, he'd love him!"

"Uh, maybe once a vet clears him of any communicable disease," Eddie hedges, but Buck has spotted Bobby by the door and is already bounding off, waving the phone and yelling "Bobby, you're a grandpa!" at a very alarmed-looking Captain. 

* * *

"Do you think Hector would prefer a red scratcher, or a blue one?" Buck asks later over dinner, staring intently at his phone. He turns the screen to show Eddie his browser window, currently displaying an array of cat trees.

"Aren't cats colorblind?" Eddie asks.

"Pretty sure that cat is just straight up blind," Chim laughs through a mouthful of food.

"He is not," Buck says indignantly. "I put the TV on for him before I left this morning and he was clearly watching Downton Abbey." 

He squints at his phone. "I'm gonna go with red. It matches the sweater I ordered him."

Hen chokes a little on her drink. "You ordered him a _sweater_?"

"Yeah, he's missing all the fur on his belly and I don't want him to get cold."

"What's next, Buck, one of those little purses to carry him around in?" Chim asks. 

"Is that... Is that something you can buy?" Buck asks with forced nonchalance, surreptitiously entering a search on his phone.

"Jesus Buck, who knew you were such a cat guy?" Hen chuckles. 

"Hector is special. And he's had a hard start to life, so he deserves to be spoiled now."

Eddie's heart warms a little at the insistence in Buck's voice, his determination to nurture a creature most people would ignore or retreat from. 

"Chris is staying at his Tia's tonight so she can take him clothes shopping in the morning," he says before he can think better of it. "If you want we can go to Petco and pick up some stuff after we get off."

Buck's face instantly brightens. "Yeah? Really?"

"Yeah, really. You should probably have a trained medical professional there when you bathe him anyway, given what I know about cats and water, and the fact that you're on blood thinners."

"Hector would never hurt me," Buck says with certainty. 

"Buck," Hen sighs, "this is an animal you've known, what - an hour at most? You don't know that for sure."

"Yes, I do. Sometimes you can just tell right from the start."

Buck glances at Eddie from beneath his lashes and then away, and Eddie knows exactly what he means. 

* * *

Taking Buck to Petco is eerily similar to taking Chris to a toy store. 

Buck rushes from shelf to shelf, gathering toys and treats. He compares food ingredients with a seriousness that belies the fact that the cat in question was eating literal garbage 24 hours ago. Eddie watches him with fondness, offering occasional input on which flavor treat Hector would prefer, whether or not the bed Buck's chosen might be TOO soft, and if buying catnip makes Buck a “bad cat dad”.

When they pass the collar display, Buck skids to a stop so suddenly that Eddie runs into him. He makes a high-pitched sound more appropriate for a 12 year old girl than a 28 year old man, and holds up a small blue collar with an attached bowtie. 

"Eddie, LOOK. Oh my god, can you picture it?" He holds the collar up in front of his own neck, as if modeling it, blue eyes wide with delight.

Eddie laughs and plucks the collar from Buck's hand, dropping it in the increasingly full cart. Buck’s puppy eyes are almost as effective as Chris’ (not that Eddie will ever, ever admit that).

A young brunette sales associate approaches them as Buck is comparing two brands of toy mice, smiling sweetly at Buck. 

"New cat owner, I assume?"

"Yeah," Buck says brightly, rocking back on his heels and grinning. "His name is Hector."

He presents the photo of Hector happily, seemingly impervious to the way the girl reels back from the photo.

"Oh," she says with forced sounding enthusiasm. "He's... uh... very unique?"

"That's what everyone keeps telling me." 

"Well, you're going to need a cat carrier, and a tag for the collar might be a good idea until you can get him microchipped. I'm assuming you've already got a litter box of course..."

Buck's face freezes, his happy enthusiasm bleeding into horrified realization.

"Oh, shit," he says.

"Literally," Eddie sighs. "Buck, did you seriously forget to provide a litter box before leaving a cat in your apartment for a TWENTY FOUR HOUR SHIFT?"

"Uh," Buck says, wincing and shrugging. 

Eddie facepalms, sighing as he drags his hand over his mouth. 

"Okay," says the sales associate. "So let me show you to our litter section, and our enzymatic cleaners..." 

* * *

"Oh yeah," Eddie says, pinching his nose. "That cat definitely crapped on your floor somewhere."

Buck drops the bags full of cat supplies inside the door, moaning theatrically at the distinct smell of cat shit lingering in the air. 

"You've got no one to blame but yourself, man."

"I know, I know," Buck whines, "But it's not like I've ever had a pet before, and I didn't exactly plan on finding one in a dumpster ten minutes before I needed to leave the house for work."

"You've _never_ had a pet?"

"No," Buck says looking away. "My dad, he wasn't - uh - big on animals. Or kids. Or literally anything that needed to be taken care of."

Eddie's chest aches. It’s the same kind of pain he feels when someone makes Chris cry – an overwhelming protective instinct that makes him want to wrap Buck up in his arms and shelter him from the cruelties of the world.

"Well," he says, resting a hand on the back of Buck's neck and shaking gently, "you've got a pet now, and he's christened his new home in spectacular fashion. You go attend to that and I'll get the litter box set up."

"Any chance you-"

"NOPE," Eddie declares with a grin. "Go get em, tiger."

Buck shuffles off with a roll of paper towels, the newly-purchased cleaner, and a resigned set to his shoulders. Eddie is pouring fresh litter into the pan when he hears Buck shout, "Oh my god, Hector, you shit in my BATHTUB?" and he bursts out laughing. 

"Hey man," he calls up the stairs, “Where do you want the litter pan?"

"In the - HHHRRRGGG - downstairs - OH MY GOD - half-bath, please."

Eddie turns around to carry the pan to the half-bath, and startles when he sees Hector sitting a few feet away, staring at him. Or possibly at the wall. It's hard to tell with the way his eyes align.

"Uh, hey there, kitty. Hector."

Hector blinks, his two bottom fangs protruding over his cheeks.

"Mmmmmmmreow," he croaks, and Jesus, even this cat's MEOW sounds wrecked. Like a rusty door hinge. In person Eddie can tell Buck's assessment of the cat having a hard start to life was correct. There's a large chunk taken out of his right ear, his tail where it swishes behind him has a kink in it that speaks of a previous break. His fur (where he has it) is matted and speckled with bits of vegetation. 

"He's kind of a mess," Buck admits, looking a little pale as he comes down the stairs carrying a tied garbage bag. He’s very carefully breathing through his mouth. "But he just needs a little love and he'll be good as new."

"Yeah," Eddie agrees. He can sympathize with being kind of a mess.

Hector walks over to Buck and arches against his shin, staring up at him with an adoring squint and audibly purring. His purr sounds like someone shaking a tin can full of rocks. A saliva bubble grows and pops on his underbite.

"Hey buddy!" Buck exclaims, scooping him up and scratching vigorously at his neck. Hector leans into it, eyes closed in ecstasy, dirty paws kneading Buck's chest. 

"Who's a good boy?" Buck asks, rubbing his face against the top of Hector's head. "Who's the best boy?"

A cigarette butt falls out of Hector's fur and Eddie cringes. 

"Hey, so, maybe we should give him that bath now?" 

* * *

Hector handles his bath far better than Eddie would have imagined. His (admittedly limited) experience with cats tells him that they should have expected yowling and scratching and frantic attempts to escape. 

Instead, Hector sits calmly in the sink and attempts to bite the stream of water flowing from the faucet, which results in him semi-waterboarding himself and snuffling and sneezing for the majority of the bath. Buck shampoos him twice, grimacing at the dirty water and debris flowing down the drain. He murmurs a constant stream of reassurances that Hector doesn't seem to actually need, given the cat’s complete lack of distress at being repeatedly soaked. 

Eddie watches the gentle way Buck's big hands smooth the shampoo into Hector's fur, how careful he is to avoid getting water in the cat's eyes (something the cat himself doesn't seem to care about as he shoves his face under the stream for the umpteenth time). 

It makes him feel warm. Buck is just so _good_. Authentically kind and genuine in a way that most people never quite achieve. This cat is a perfect example - Buck looked at something that most people would reject and saw only the goodness and potential in it, the suffering that needed to be alleviated. The same way he'd looked at Eddie's disabled son and seen only how brightly he shines. The same way he'd looked at a single father with baggage and seen someone worthy of his time and love. 

Admittedly, that last one had taken some time (and an explosives device) to accomplish. But Eddie still felt more seen, more himself, with Buck than with anyone else in his life. Buck loved with his whole self, unequivocally and without reservation. Being on the receiving end of that love was a heady experience, a prism through which everything looked better and more hopeful.

"There," Buck exclaimed, wrapping Hector in a towel, "all done.”

Eddie shifted, aware he’d been staring too long. 

“Isn't that better, buddy? Now you don't smell like dumpster juice!" Buck grinned.

"Brrrrrrrrrrow," Hector chirped, sodden head on a skinny neck poking ludicrously from the bundled towel.

"I think we can brush most of these mats out," Buck said, scratching Hector's protruding chin, "but some of them might need to be cut out. Think you can give me a hand with that?"

"Sure," Eddie agreed, extending a finger for Hector to smell. The cat sniffed curiously for a moment, then rubbed his cheek on Eddie's knuckles.

"He likes you," Buck smiled. "Hector is a good judge of character."

"Well, he picked you, didn't he? So I have to agree with you on that one."

Color spread high on Buck’s cheeks at the compliment. He squeezed Hector against his chest, and Eddie tried not to think about what it did to him to be the one to make Buck blush.

As predicted, most of the mats were able to be combed out now that they weren't coated in dumpster juice and god-only-knew-what. But some of the denser ones pulled at Hector's skin and made him whine unhappily, so Buck held him still while Eddie carefully snipped them out with nail scissors. 

When they were done, Buck fit the bowtie collar around Hector's neck and stepped back to admire their work.

He beamed proudly. "Look how handsome he looks!"

Eddie eyed the cat dubiously - missing patches of fur, missing patches of _ear_ , eyes akimbo. That _underbite_. 

"Arrrrowr?" Hector meowed.

"Perfect," Eddie agreed.

And if Buck noticed that Eddie was looking at him, and not the cat when he answered, well, he didn't let on. 

“I can’t believe you made your mangy cat an Instagram account,” Chim laughs, two weeks later. 

They’re riding to a house fire, and Buck is showing the team the latest photo of Hector, tongue sticking out from between his protruding bottom teeth as he watches birds through the window. 

“He doesn’t have mange,” Buck insists, affronted. “The vet said it’s eczema. And possibly an allergy to his own dander. But it’s _not_ mange.”

“That cat is a walking disaster, Buck,” Chim insists. “It defies the laws of nature that an animal with that many genetic strikes against it is still alive at all. But on the bright side, now you have a legitimate reason for that box of Happy Cat Laxative!”

Seated next to him, Eddie feels Buck stiffen uncomfortably at the reminder of their disastrous grocery store encounter during the lawsuit. 

“Yeah, well, it’s not his fault he’s a disaster,” Buck says, voice strained. “People hurt him, and bad shit happened to him, and everyone just abandoned him because he wasn’t perfect and he wasn’t what they wanted him to be. But he just needs someone to give him another chance and see that he’s doing his best, and maybe he’s fucked up, but he’s _trying_ , okay?”

His voice breaks a little at the end, and there’s a moment of tense silence in the back of the rig where it’s clear no one really knows that to say. Buck isn’t just talking about Hector, that much is clear, and Eddie isn’t sure how to respond to that. He thought they were past all that, but obviously his best friend is holding onto some insecurity that Eddie hadn’t anticipated. 

“I think he’s a lovely cat,” Hen says gently, elbowing Chim pointedly. 

“Yeah, man, sorry – he’s, uh… one of a kind,” Chim says, sounding appropriately chagrined. 

Eddie presses his knee against Buck’s and rests a hand on his shoulder, feeling some of the tension bleed out of the muscles there. 

“Chim’s just jealous that Hector has more followers than he does,” he assures Buck. 

He’s rewarded with a hesitant smile.

“He does, doesn’t he? Did you see that the Fire Chief started following him? He heart-reacted to that picture of him wearing his sweater last week.”

Chim rolls his eyes, muttering something about no appreciation for hot Asian sex symbols, and then the rig is pulling up in front of a burning house and there’s no more time for talking.

* * *

Eddie brings Chris over to meet Hector that weekend. Between work shifts, school events, and family plans it’s been hard to find the time to get to Buck’s the last few weeks. After having been subjected to near-constant begging on behalf of both his son and his best friend, they’ve finally made the time.

Honestly he didn’t really need convincing – he never does, to spend time with Buck. But he secretly enjoys playing stick-in-the-mud occasionally, because watching Chris and Buck team up against him is fun. It makes his heart happy in a way he’s having to admit, more and more, crosses the line between fondness and something… bigger. 

Buck greets them at the door, face split in a wide grin as he swoops Christopher up in his arms and tickles him.

“Buck!” Chris squeals, “We came to meet Hector!”

“Oh, I see,” Buck says with mock hurt, “I’m just second fiddle now that Hector’s here, huh? No time for boring ol’ human Buck I guess.”

“Nope,” Chris giggles, squirming to get down.

“Don’t feel bad,” Eddie consoles him, following Chris into the apartment. “Last week he rejected me in favor of a pet rock. At least Hector is actually sentient.”

There’s a delighted squeal from the living room, and when they follow the sound they find Chris sitting on the floor, crutches abandoned, with a lap full of scraggly cat. Hector is grinding the top of his head against Chris’ chin, purring loudly and kneading his paws with enthusiasm. He’s also drooling copiously.

“He’s AWESOME,” Chris declares, rubbing Hector’s naked belly as the cat flops over onto his back, front paws continuing to knead the air over his head.

“I knew you guys would hit it off,” Buck says with satisfaction, dropping heavily onto the sofa. “My favorite human and my favorite feline, together at last.” 

He coughs lightly into the crook of his arm, and Eddie notices for the first time that he looks a little pale, a little extra tired. 

“You feeling okay?” 

Buck waves a dismissive hand in his direction.

“Fine dude. Just inhaled a little smoke yesterday when you were off-shift. Car fire got a little out of hand, but it’s fine.”

“Okay,” Eddie says hesitantly, “Just keep an eye on it.”

He can’t help it – ever since he watched Buck cough up blood and collapse from the blood clot, he’s got a bit of a hair-trigger when it comes to Buck's health. 

“Yes, dad,” Buck says, rolling his eyes. 

“Just for that comment, I’m helping myself to a beer.”

“As if you don’t help yourself to one every time you’re here, anyway.”

Eddie grabs them both a beer from the fridge, and they sit in companionable silence watching Chris lead Hector around the apartment with a laser pointer toy. The cat runs like his back end is a little drunk, and watching him Eddie thinks maybe one of his hind legs might be shorter than the other. Twice he runs into furniture when he corners too tightly or his blind eye prevents him from seeing an obstacle. 

“It’s okay, kid,” Chris tells him each time, dusting him off and giving him chin scratches. Hector seems unphased by any of it, delighting in the attention being lavished on him. 

Eddie’s never been much of a cat person, but he’s got to admit that Hector – despite his many, MANY issues – is pretty awesome. He’s playful and affectionate, and when Chris plays with him he never extends his claws. He tolerates Chris’ awkward attempts to hold him with grace, and the delight on his son’s face when Hector finally flops down on his lap and falls asleep is well worth the amount of fur stuck all over both of their clothes. 

“Dad,” Chris says. Eddie can hear at least a 20% increase in cuteness to his tone, and he knows what’s coming. “Can WE get a cat?”

Buck hides his grin with a swig from his beer, knocking a knee into Eddie’s. “Yeah, Eddie, why DON’T you guys get a cat?”

Eddie shoots him a glare.

“We’re not really in a place to get a pet right now, mijo.”

Chris pouts, doing that thing with his eyes he reserves for times he REALLY wants something and knows Eddie will resist. 

“I’ll tell you what,” Buck says, saving Eddie from having to reply. “How about you be Hector’s official big brother? You can come visit any time, and you can be responsible for him if I go out of town or something.”

“Yeah!” Chris crows. “And if you’re Hector’s dad, and I’m his brother, that makes YOU my dad, too!”

He strokes Hector’s fur gently, oblivious to the stunned look on Buck’s face and the loaded silence that’s descended on the room. 

“Uh,” Buck says, scratching at the back of his neck and blushing. “Eddie, I wasn’t trying to – um – I didn’t think that-“

“It’s okay,” Eddie assures him, and realizes as he says it that it’s true. Chris so easily labeling Buck as a parental figure should worry him, he supposes. But it doesn’t. If there’s one thing Eddie is sure of, it’s that Buck will never willingly let Christopher down. He loves Chris with a level of fierceness and devotion that rivals some biological parents. “You’re practically co-parenting him with me already, Buck. It’s not news.”

The anxious, self-conscious look on Buck’s face eases into one that is soft and tender and happily surprised, and it does strange things to Eddie’s insides. 

“I’m definitely the cool parent in this scenario, though, right Chris?” Buck asks.

“Definitely,” Chris agrees, traitorous little imp.

“Oh,” Eddie exclaims, throwing a theatrical hand over his heart. “OH. I see how it is. Fine. I’ll just be over here silently withering away from lack of love.”

“When does the silent part kick in?” Buck asks with a raised brow.

“Yeah, Daddy, you’re going to wake up Hector,” Chris says, with a level of dramatic seriousness only a child can manage. On his lap, Hector snorts and snores, tongue sticking out as he heaves a satisfied sigh.

Eddie rolls his eyes and pantomimes zipping his lips shut, but doesn’t try to stop the happy smile that blooms when he catches Buck’s eyes over his son’s head.

* * *

Buck isn’t at the station two days later when Eddie shows up for his shift. He gets as far as opening his mouth to ask Bobby about it before Bobby says “Buck called out. Said it was nothing serious, just a bad cold, but he was going to try to sleep it off so he can come in tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Eddie responds, trying to ignore the knot of worry in his gut. Buck _never_ calls out. Eddie’s seen Bobby resort to physically leading Buck to his jeep to get him to leave when he was sick. Buck was trying to come back to work weeks after throwing a clot and puking up blood. Calling out for a cold is… not like him.

“Help Chim restock the ambulances once you’re done calling Buck to check up on him,” Bobby calls from the kitchen.

Eddie should probably be more embarrassed that he’s so predictable, but right now he’s just concerned. 

Buck picks up right before the call goes to voicemail. 

“’Ello?” he croaks and shit, he sounds miserable. 

“Buck? Hey man, Bobby said you’re sick. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Buck insists, pausing to cough harshly. Eddie winces. “Turns out that little cough the other day wasn’t just smoke inhalation after all. I’m fine, Eds. Just need to sleep it off and get back to work.”

“You sure? You need anything? I’m sure Carla wouldn’t mind dropping off some cough syrup or something.”

“Naw, I’m fine, just need sleep.”

“Okay, I’ll let you get back to resting. But I’m going to call you later. Drink lots of fluids, and you better call me if you need anything alright?”

“You’re bossy when you’re worried,” Buck sighs. “S’cute.”

Buck called him cute. Huh.

“MRRRRRRRRROW!”

Hector’s harsh meow sounds through the speaker, accompanied by a thud, some rustling, and the muffled sound of Buck cursing.

“Sorry,” he says a moment later, breathless. “Hector’s being a real clingy pain in the ass. He head-butted the phone out of my hand.”

“Good luck with that,” Eddie chuckles. “I’ll talk to you later.”

Later turns out to be a lot later than Eddie anticipated. It’s a day of back-to-back calls, and by the time he has a moment to call and check on Buck there’s only a few hours left on his shift and it’s getting dark outside. He sighs wearily as he slumps down on the couch, listening to the call ring. It goes to voicemail unanswered, and Eddie frowns. It’s possible – likely, even – that Buck is just sleeping or in the shower or something, but there’s a niggling concern that makes him dial again. And again, and once more. Finally, there’s a click as the call picks up, but no answering hello.

“Buck?” Eddie asks.

“OOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWRRRR.”

It’s Hector, Eddie realizes. He sounds distressed. There’s rustling that Eddie assumes is him pawing the phone, and he yowls again.

“Hector? Where’s Buck?” he asks, face-palming as he realizes he’s actually talking to a fucking cat. The rest of the team is staring at him from the kitchen with matching expressions of bewilderment.

There’s a beat of silence, then a more distant yowl and, faintly, a familiar (human) voice moaning in pain. 

“Buck!” Eddie yells, “Can you hear me?”

There’s no answer, and panic settles into his lungs as a heavy weight. “Hang on, Buck, I’m on my way,” he instructs, standing and shooting Bobby a worried look. 

“Cap, I think something’s wrong with Buck,” he explains. 

“Chim, radio dispatch and tell them we’re responding to a wellness check,” Bobby says without hesitation. “Eddie, you’re with me in my truck, Chim and Hen have the ambulance.”

Eddie presses the phone against his ear again, hoping to hear Buck, but all he hears is Hector meowing lowly.

“We’re coming, boy, hang on,” he whispers.

* * *

Eddie lets them into Buck’s apartment with his key, the rest of the team on his heels as he walks into the dark living area.  
  


“Buck?” he yells. There’s a flurry of dark fur at the top of the stairs to the loft, and Hector half runs, half falls down the stairs meowing anxiously. He winds his way around Eddie’s ankles, nearly tripping him, then runs back up the loft stairs yowling. Not pausing to think about the fact that he’s following a cat as if it were Lassie, Eddie runs up the loft stairs two at a time.

As he clears the landing he can see Buck’s bare feet sticking out from behind the bed, and his heart lurches. 

“Hen, Chim!” he yells, stumbling around the bed and dropping to his knees beside his friend. Buck is unconscious, sprawled on the floor at an angle that implies he fell and stayed down. Eddie feels for his pulse and curses as his fingers hit Buck’s neck. He’s burning up.

“Damn it, Buck,” Hen says as she joins Eddie on the floor. 

“He’s got a high fever,” Eddie reports, “respirations are rapid and shallow, pulse is 210.”

Hen swipes a thermometer over Buck’s forehead, frowning when it beeps angrily. “Temp is 104.3. Chim, start a line.”

Eddie runs a hand over Buck’s damp hair. “I should have checked on him sooner,” he whispers. 

“You had no way of knowing,” Bobby says, standing out of the way behind Hen. “All you can do is try to help now.”

“See if you can get him to wake up,” Chim instructs, taping the IV down.

Eddie pats Buck’s cheek. “Buck!” he says loudly. “Come on, man, wake up. Open your eyes.”

When that doesn’t work, he grinds his knuckles against Buck’s sternum. Buck moans and turns his head, eyelids fluttering.

“Buck,” Eddie insist, rubbing his knuckles again. “Come on.”

Buck winces and his eyes blink open groggily, bloodshot and drifting without focus. 

“Hey,” Eddie says, exhaling with relief. “There you are. Keep your eyes open, okay?”

Buck responds by coughing violently, curling up off the floor as his body fights to breathe. His lungs sound wet and rattling and Eddie doesn’t like the way he’s gasping for air in between coughs. 

Hen slips an oxygen mask over his face and presses her stethoscope to his chest when he finally flops back onto the hardwood, lips dusky.

“Rales in both lungs,” she reports. “Stridor on exhale. Sounds like pneumonia. He’s in respiratory distress, we need to move.”

Eddie helps them roll Buck to get him on the backboard and they carry him down the stairs carefully. Eddie’s about to follow them out the front door when Hector appears at his feet. He meows, the sound mournful and low.

Eddie spares just a moment to reach down and scratch his head. “I know, buddy. I’ll take care of him, I promise.”

* * *

Bacterial pneumonia. It wasn’t smoke inhalation, it wasn’t a cold. It was pneumonia. 

Eddie sits wearily at Buck’s bedside, watching the mist from the nebulizer swirl in his oxygen mask. There’s an IV running antibiotics and saline into the back of his left hand, and a pulse-ox monitor clipped to his index finger. Eddie stares at the readings – O2 holding steady at 92%, pulse at 90 – and tries not to think about how low Buck’s O2 readings dropped on the way to the hospital when he went hypoxic and passed out again. 

“Damn it Buck,” he sighs. “You’ve got to stop almost dying, man. This shit is getting ridiculous.”

He flips Buck’s hand over, mindful of the IV, and presses their palms together. Buck’s hand is warm and dry, and the way Eddie’s fingers curl over his wrist feels natural and comforting. He strokes his thumb over the younger man’s pulse point in a slow, repetitive rhythm. It’s more intimate than just friends should be. 

But they’re not just friends. Eddie knows this. What they are, exactly, is something he doesn’t know how to name. They’ve been living inside each other’s personal space for so long that the edges have started to blur. He knows they need to talk about this when Buck wakes up – and the doctors say he _will_ wake up. Eddie has been holding onto these feelings for too long already, and he thinks (hopes) that Buck feels the same. But Eddie is terrified that if he looks directly at this thing forming between them it’ll shatter under the pressure of being acknowledged. 

Buck’s fingers twitch under his, and when he looks up Buck is watching him from under blonde lashes.

“Hey,” he says, squeezing Buck’s hand. Buck squeezes back, mouths _hey_ under the mask, lifts his eyebrows in an unspoken question.

“You’ve got bacterial pneumonia. We found you unresponsive in your apartment with a high fever.”

“Shit,” Buck whispers, voice rough.

“Yeah,” Eddie says dryly. “Why didn’t you call me when you started getting worse?”

“Didn’t think it was this bad,” Buck admits, voice barely audible. “Last thing I remember is goin’ to sleep.”

“It was bad, Buck.”

Buck hums softly and closes his eyes, looking exhausted.

“You scared me,” Eddie admits softly, allowing himself the comfort of brushing a hand over Buck’s hair. “Again.”

“Sorry,” Buck whispers, opening his eyes again and looking at Eddie. 

“We can’t lose you, Buck. _I_ can’t lose you. You have no idea how much I need you in my life.” 

The admission hangs in the air between them for a moment, Buck’s expression surprised and hopeful.

“You do?” he asks, eyes a little wet.

“Yes, _idiota,_ of course I do. Don’t you know how much I lo-“

“Buckaroo!” Hen calls from the doorway, “You’re awake!”

And Eddie adores Hen like a sister - he really does - but at this moment, he wants to stand up and slam the door in her face. 

Buck is staring at him with wide eyes, and there’s no way he doesn’t know what Eddie was about to confess. He squeezes Eddie’s hand, hard, and smiles at him as Hen drops into the chair on the other side of his bed.

“Uh, am I interrupting something?” Hen asks, glancing between them. 

_YES,_ Eddie thinks with frustration. But saying it out loud means admitting to Hen that there’s something more than friendship here to interrupt, and they deserve the chance to figure this out on their own first.

“No, it’s fine,” Eddie says, and Hen raises an incredulous eyebrow at him. He’s still holding Buck’s hand but he’ll be damned if he’s letting go now, regardless of how it looks to anyone else. 

“Hey Hen,” Buck says wearily, shooting Eddie an apologetic look. 

“Uh huh,” Hen says, looking between the two of them, then thankfully letting it go.

“Well you owe Hector a can of tuna or something when you get home,” she says, leaning back in her chair. “Somehow he hit the accept call button when Eddie was trying to call you.”

“He did?” Buck asks proudly.

“He did,” Eddie says. “I heard you moaning in the background. That’s how I knew something was really wrong, and why we took the rig to your place right away rather than me just checking up on you on my own after shift. If we hadn’t been there when we were, with oxygen, you would have been in serious trouble. He might have saved your life.”

“Told you…he was awesome,” Buck smiles.

“No argument here. I think even Chim won’t be able to disparage him now,” Hen laughs.

“Someone taking care of him for me?” Buck asks.

“If anyone here needs taking care of it’s you, you unlucky bastard.”

“Eddie-“

“Relax. Carla already brought him to my place. Chris is worried about you, but delighted at having Hector as a houseguest. He’s already christened the guest room as ‘Hector’s room’ and is making plans to build him a ‘kitty castle’ out of my couch cushions. You might not get him back.”

“Guess I’ll just have to move in,” Buck smiles sleepily.

“At least then I could keep an eye on you and try to stop you from nearly killing yourself every few months,” Eddie says.

Buck closes his eyes wearily. “Yeah but apparently I’d hafta bunk with you, since Hector’s claimed the guest room.”

Hen snorts.

“I call dibs on being the big spoon,” Eddie says, and Buck lets out a startled laugh that quickly turns into harsh coughing. Eddie grabs the cup of ice water from the bed tray and helps him slip the straw under his mask once the coughing fades.

Buck is pale once he finally gets his breath back, and Hen stands to press a kiss to his forehead.

“I’ll let you get some rest, Buckaroo,” she says. “I just wanted to check in. We’re really glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks, Hen,” Buck smiles, waving wearily as she leaves. He looks at Eddie as the door closes behind her, and Eddie knows he wants to talk, but his eyes are already drifting closed.

“We’ll talk later,” Eddie tells him. “Get some sleep.”

“Stay?” Buck whispers.

“Always.”

* * *

They keep Buck in the hospital an additional 3 days, much to his annoyance. He’s angling to be discharged by halfway through the second day, despite the fact that he gets winded even rolling over in bed. Maddie threatens to have them handcuff him to the bed, and Buck waggles his eyebrows at Eddie and makes a crack about hospital kinks – the effect of which is completely ruined by him coughing until he’s gagging on phlegm. 

In the meantime Hector is wreaking havoc at the Diaz household – he’s already climbed inside the dishwasher twice, stolen Eddie’s underwear from the laundry and dispersed it around the house (leading to a rather awkward conversation when Carla finds his chili pepper boxer briefs under a couch pillow), climbed the curtains, vomited on the couch, almost set his tail on fire jumping on the stovetop while Eddie is cooking, and somehow managing to kill an artificial plant. Eddie has woken up multiple times at night to find Hector sitting on his chest and simply staring at him, breathing audibly and occasionally drooling. It’s… disquieting to say the least. 

The mystery of how Hector answered Buck’s phone is solved when Buck explains that he downloaded a Purina app for Hector that features swimming fish for the cat to swat at (because of COURSE he did). Eddie learns quickly that if he leaves his phone accessible, Hector will paw at it until it does something. Something, it turns out, being opening his contacts and dialing an ex whose number he’d never gotten around to deleting. Trying to explain to her that a cat had been the one to call her didn’t go over well, and Eddie is half-expecting someone to show up with a restraining order within the next week. 

Buck laughs his ass off when Eddie tells him (ungrateful asshole), but it’s hard to stay mad at him when laughter inevitably leads to bone-rattling coughing fits and gasping for air. 

Eddie visits every day, either before his shifts or during his time off. Mostly they just talk about Chris, the station, plans for when Buck is discharged. Sometimes Eddie listens while Buck complains about hospital food or how boring daytime TV is. Sometimes Eddie just watches him sleep, daring to brush the hair from Buck’s forehead or rest a light hand on his chest as it rises and falls. There are plenty of opportunities for them to talk about whatever it is going on with them, but they don’t. The moment is never right. Too many distractions and interruptions, too many unspoken possibilities hanging between them.

Chris is desperate to come visit, but Buck insists their reunion wait until he’s out of the hospital.

“It’s flu season,” he explains to Eddie, “and I don’t need to tell you that he’s at increased risk of flu complications because of his CP. I don’t want him around all these sick people.”

Eddie is half-tempted to grab Buck by the face and just kiss him right then and there, heart swelling at the protectiveness and care the younger man extends to his son. But they still need to talk, and Eddie is too afraid of fucking it all up. Instead, he lets Buck call Chris and console him with promises of ice cream and movies when he gets home, and reminders of Chris’ sacred duty as Hector’s “big brother”.

“I need you there to look out for him,” Buck insists, voice gravelly. “There’s no one else I trust to take care of him but you – can you do that for me, Superman?”

Bolstered by his role as official big brother and cat watcher, Chris loses the sad edge to his voice and devotes himself fully to the care and keeping of Hector with an adorable level of seriousness. He makes a feeding schedule, measures the cat’s food out with scientific precision, clocks their playtime to be sure Hector is getting adequate exercise. It’s incredibly endearing. 

Honestly, Eddie’s not looking forward to Hector (and Buck) leaving once Buck’s back on his feet.

* * *

“You’re sure you don’t mind us crashing with you for a few days?” Buck asks, sinking into Eddie’s couch wearily. “I’ll be fine at my place if this is too much disruption.”

“Last time you told me you’d be fine I found you unconscious on your floor in the middle of a medical emergency, so yeah – it’s more than fine, Buck.”

“Touché,” Buck says with an embarrassed smile. 

Eddie grabs them both a bottle of water from the fridge and drops onto the cushion next to Buck. Hector, having heard his human’s voice, trots out of the guest room and makes a clumsy running leap onto Buck’s lap.

“Hey buddy! I missed you!” Buck says with genuine excitement.

He pets Hector with rough, firm strokes that have the cat purring and arching into Buck’s hands. Eddie can confidently say this is the first time he’s ever been jealous of a cat.

“Did he give you much trouble?” Buck asks.

Eddie thinks of the shredded drapes in his room, his still-missing favorite pair of briefs, the hairball he’d stepped in that morning, and the fur covering every horizontal surface in his house. Not to mention the sheer number of times he’d woken to Hector’s ass only inches from his face. 

“Nah,” he says. “No trouble at all.”

“That’s my good boy. Who’s the bestest kitty in all of LA? Is it you? I think it’s you.” Hector bumps his head against Buck’s chest, soaking up the ridiculous baby talk, then scrambles awkwardly onto Buck’s shoulders.

“Ow, dude! Claws!” Buck protests. 

Eddie smiles warmly at them, grateful to have Buck sitting in his living room and recovering. His posture is relaxed, the tips of his hair and eyelashes glowing in the early morning sunlight streaming through the window. And Jesus his eyes are so damn blue it’s almost unfair. _Beautiful,_ he thinks, and it’s true. Eddie Diaz never thought he’d look at a man and call him beautiful, but if there’s anything Buck’s good at its upending Eddie’s expectations in all the best possible ways. 

Eddie looks at him there, soft in his track pants and worn tee, with his ridiculous rescued cat chewing on his hair, and knows he can’t go another day without telling him how he feels.

“We should talk,” Eddie blurts out, right as Buck says, “About the other day…”

They both stop, stare at each other, and laugh nervously. 

“Go ahead,” Eddie says.

“No, uh, you can go first. If you want, I mean,” Buck says, flushing a little.

Now that he’s opened that door, though, Eddie isn’t actually sure how to go through it. How do you tell your best friend you think you’re in love with him? Eddie’s never been good with words when it comes to emotions other than anger. He’s working on it, but this is too important, too precious, to screw up by saying the wrong thing. 

The pressure is paralyzing him. 

Buck looks equally frozen, and the longer the silence stretches the more Eddie sees his own panic reflected in Buck’s eyes.

“Um,” he says, voice cracking.

“Yeah,” Buck says, looking down and away.

Hector makes an annoyed growling sound, turning and launching himself off of Buck’s shoulders. The force of his leap pushes Buck’s torso forward, and he reaches out a surprised hand to steady himself on Eddie’s shoulder. 

They’re close now, so close that Eddie can feel Buck’s breath on his cheek. Neither of them move for a moment, eyes locked. Then Buck’s hand moves to curl over Eddie’s shoulder, sliding slowly around the back of his neck. He stares at Eddie with wide eyes, waiting. Asking. 

Eddie glances down at Buck’s mouth, his parted lips, and thinks _yes_.

He reaches up to hold Buck’s face in his palms, then closes the last of the space between them to press their lips together. Buck gasps, surging forward and pulling at the back of Eddie’s neck to urge him closer. 

“That cat deserves a fucking medal or something,” Eddie says when they finally break apart, pushing Buck until he’s lying stretched out underneath him.

“I sure know how to pick ‘em, don’t I?” Buck laughs, and kisses him again.

  
  



End file.
